Empty
by wandofhawthorn
Summary: Returning for an eighth and final year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger isn't as strong as she used to be. She finds comfort in an unlikely Slytherin. Complete for the time being.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_ This is a little plot bunny that bit me on the nose and wouldn't go away while I was working on something else. It stands well on its own, but I may choose to expand on it someday. If I do, the rating will probably change. Please read and review!

This chapter was updated 5/17/13.

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><p>"Granger!" The voice echoed across the grounds, travelling with the wind to the edge of the lake. In the distance, the Forbidden Forest was on fire with color – the leaves orange, yellow and red – but Draco knew it would only last for a few days. Fall in Scotland never lasted more than a week. He walked quietly, his footsteps cushioned by the thick grass covering the ground. The hair of the Gryffindor eighth year blew around her face, an unmanageable cloud of dark brown waves, covering eyes that stared blankly over the choppy surface of the water. He stopped ten feet from her, close enough that he knew she was aware of his presence, but far enough away if she decided she didn't want him around. She threw a mean jinx when properly motivated.<p>

Her arms came up to grip her elbows, and she hugged herself as she took a deep breath. He could see her shoulders drawn tight against herself, but they had not started to shake just yet. He knew she was thinking about _them_. Those "friends" that had chosen to not return to school after the war. They were no doubt off somewhere with the Aurors, tracking down the Death Eaters who had evaded capture after the Final Battle. They had known the danger, and they had encouraged Hermione to continue her schooling instead of following them. She had hoped that coming back would've convinced them to come with her, back to the safety of Hogwarts, but they were just as stubborn as she was. They had deserted her, and she had to deal with the remnants of war on her own.

"Granger?" His voice was only just audible over the wind. She didn't react, continuing to stare over the lake. Cautiously, he approached her, standing just to her side and directing his own gaze over the water.

"What do you want, Draco?" she asked, her voice shaking as if she was on the verge of tears. "I'm tired. I don't want to deal with you right now."

He noticed her wand was gripped against her arm. She rarely put it down anymore, always ready for anything that might come her way, even though there hadn't been anything to worry about since the Final Battle.

"McGonagall sent me to check on you," he lied.

"I can take care of myself."

"I know that. Maybe you don't have to."

Her eyes moved briefly. Draco continued to stare at the inky blackness of the water.

"There's supposed to be tiramisu tonight. Fancy going to dinner?" He tried to sound casual, but he knew she was already suspicious of him. Their interactions so far had consisted of "pass the salt" and "can I borrow your Arithmancy notes." Rumors had been going around the school that the two eighth years had become friends, but Draco thought of it more as a mutually beneficial acquaintance. Younger students wouldn't approach them in the library when they were at the same table, and the other eighth years wouldn't bother them with stupid questions at dinner if they sat next to each other. Draco had counted his lucky stars when McGonagall had announced the eighth years would no longer be divided into their houses – he wanted to distance himself from the Slytherins as much as he could. Lucky again, he and Blaise were the only ones to return for eighth year.

"I'm not hungry," she said, "but thanks."

Draco nodded, but didn't move to leave her. They were rarely apart during the day, having all the same classes and the same homework. On the few occasions they had actual conversations, it was usually on the application of some archaic magical theory – it was also the only time he saw her alive, when she argued. She would eat, sleep, and breathe, of course, but her eyes were dead, as though the life had been sucked out of her. The passion and conviction she had possessed the first six years Draco had known her was gone, and it pained him to admit that he missed it.

He didn't know how they started spending so much time together, but it seemed that she simply desired company that wouldn't ask her to talk about her time travelling with the two morons she called friends. He couldn't bring himself to care about what they had gone through while traipsing through the English countryside, and she certainly didn't want to hear about his ordeals of sharing a bathroom with Voldemort. Their interaction was easy. Safe. No one expected anything.

"You don't have to babysit me."

"I know."

The only sound was the wind ripping through the trees. The sun dipped below the horizon. Hermione shivered.

"Let's go nick some food from the kitchen and sneak it into the library. We've got that Potions essay due tomorrow." Again, his tone was casual.

"I finished it last week."

"Then you can help me."

She sighed heavily and turned to face him. The wind had brought color to her pale cheeks, now blotchy red from the oncoming cold. "Can't you take a hint? I just want to be alone right now. I don't want food, I don't want to go to the library, and I don't want to help you with your essay! Why can't you just leave me alone?" An angry tear fell from the corner of her eye, slicing a wet trail down her cheek before dripping off her chin. "We are not _friends_, Malfoy. You don't care about me, so stop trying to trick me into thinking otherwise. There is nothing for you to _fix_ here, not that you'd be capable of that anyway."

He didn't move under her onslaught, but simply stared across the lake, maintaining a blank look. When she had finished and was breathing heavily, refusing to wipe away the other tears that had joined the first, he turned just his head and met her eyes. "Feel better?"

"I don't feel anything!" she shouted. "I can't! Harry and Ron don't talk to me anymore. My parents won't even look at me. I can't sleep without my wand under my pillow because it feels like something will get me if I drop my guard for a second. I've stopped caring about everything because I'm afraid it will leave me, or break, or _die_. I feel empty. I _am_ empty." Her voice broke and she crumpled, her knees sinking into the soft grass. Her small frame shook as she sobbed silently.

Draco settled himself onto the cold ground, facing the broken girl. He didn't remember the moment he had started to care for her, but he knew that he missed her fire. Slowly reaching his hand towards her, he let the tips of his fingers rest lightly on her shoulder. When she leaned towards him, he gathered her to him without a second thought, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and another across the small of her back as she cried into his chest. She sat awkwardly in his lap, but he didn't dare move her to a more comfortable position.

Her fingers clutched at the front of his jumper, digging painfully into his chest. Her wand lay forgotten on the ground, and it shocked Draco more than it should. The idea that she might actually trust someone – trust _him_ – enough to let down her defences was the first hint that she might not be as empty as she claimed. As she quieted, she shifted in his arms, her own snaking around to return his embrace. Time passed unobserved as they sat at the edge of the lake, the grounds growing dark around them.

Draco's stomach grumbled loudly, and Hermione hiccuped a laugh. She tucked her face into his shoulder.

"Can we nick some food now?" he muttered, not bothering to remove his arms. "I bet the house elves would've made extra."

She nodded against his chest, pulling back to face him. Hermione dropped her arms first, grabbing for her wand behind her and standing. When Draco rose up beside her, she grabbed his wrist, keeping him from moving towards the castle immediately. She stood on her toes and placed a dry kiss on his cheek before releasing him altogether. He bit back a grin and the urge to pull her back towards him.

"You said tiramisu, right?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over them as they walked.

"Yeah, and if there's none left because you refused to come to dinner, you're helping me with that essay."

She scoffed. "If you wanted it so badly, you could've left me out here to freeze. And you know I'll be helping you with that essay regardless."

"Which is why I didn't leave you to freeze, Granger."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, catching sight of the small smile that had formed on her lips. "Whatever you say, Malfoy," she replied.

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><p><em>Author's note:<em> Thoughts? Feelings? I'm still not 100% happy with it, but since I have no idea where I'm taking it, I'm not sure how to fix it yet. Constructive criticism is welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note:_ Decided to keep it going. This chapter could probably stand on its own if I wanted it to, but it's definitely in the same plot line. Currently planning one or two more chapters, but if it strikes my fancy, I'll write more. Please R&R!

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><p>The Astronomy Tower held too many memories for her. The air was suffocating, despite the cold fresh wind blowing in from the surrounding mountains. She hugged her cloak around her shoulders, shuddering lightly as she stepped into the glow of the full moon. Snippets of memories kept coming back to her – violent flashes of light, cruel laughter, triumphant cheers, the smell of death.<p>

The only sound around her was the ticking of the clock in the tower and her own light footsteps echoing against the stone walls. She clutched her wand tight in her hand, the security of her magic warm in her fingers. Her breath was visible in the winter air – the first snow had fallen that morning, right on schedule for November. An owl flew by, melancholy hooting filling the air. She started, raising her wand in a defensive stance. A flutter of wings, and another set of footsteps.

"_Lumos!"_ she breathed, the tip of her wand flaring and filling the corners of the room with light. A pale pointed face and straight blonde hair appeared over the edge of the staircase. "For Godric's sake, Draco!"

"Just me, Granger, stand down," he joked as he climbed the rest of the stairs, holding his hands up to show he was unarmed. Hermione knew his wand was just up his sleeve, the same place she carried hers. He was dressed in his heavy cloak, the collar of the heavy wool garment pulled up around his ears. He carried a small bag with him. "Saw you sneaking out and wanted to make sure you weren't going to get yourself into too much trouble."

"What's it to you? It's not like I'll lose points or anything. The professors don't even look at me when I'm out after curfew." She placed her hands on her hips, her wand remaining clenched in her right hand.

"Let me rephrase – getting into too much trouble _without me_. Nothing happens in this bloody school anymore, and I'm bored."

"I should think that's a good thing," Hermione scoffed. She nodded to the satchel over his shoulder. "What's in the bag?"

"Food. Some firewhiskey." He patted it and the sound of clinking bottles rang out. "You looked like you could use a drink after that Arithmancy exam today."

She settled herself on the cold wooden floor, her back against one of the thick wooden pillars that supported another balcony above them. Drawing her knees into herself, she wrapped her cloak to envelope the rest of her frame. "Let's have it then," she said, patting the floor next to her.

Draco settled himself against the same pillar so that just their shoulders were touching. Pulling the bag open, he set the firewhiskey between them, along with a small empty jar.

"What's that for?" she asked.

"Rumor has it you've been able to create the best bluebell flames since first year. I figured you needed something to keep you warm apart from that horrific cloak."

"I happen to love this cloak, thank you very much." It had belonged to Ron at one point, but Hermione had stolen it so long ago that she now considered it hers.

"Oh yes, a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down is prefect for serving its purpose of warmth," he scoffed. She rolled her eyes, but cast the charm anyway. He took a swig of firewhiskey and offered her the bottle.

She took a tentative sip – the hardest thing she had ever had was the wine her parents let her drink with dinner. It burned her tongue, leaving a stinging trail down her throat. She coughed.

"It's best if you don't let it sit in your mouth too long," Draco explained. He demonstrated by taking a quick drink, throwing his head back to let the liquid slide easily down his throat. He smacked his lips together and handed the bottle back. The second shot went easier, but her eyes still watered. "How do you think you did on the exam?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Question 14b gave me a bit of trouble, but I think I did alright. Professor Vector isn't going easy on us this term."

"She didn't last year either. I vaguely remember what she tried to teach us, but there was so much going on it's a wonder she got around to much teaching at all."

There was a heavy silence. More screams echoed in Hermione's ears. Fred's pale face sprang into her mind, followed quickly by others – Tonks, Lupin, even Lavender. She snuggled further into her cloak, dipping her chin, mouth and nose beneath the fabric. She pressed her eyes shut until she could see stars.

"You think too much, Granger. I can hear the wheels spinning in there."

She sighed, leaning further into his shoulder. "I can't help it. I see them everywhere – in my sleep, in class, while eating. I can't get their voices out of my head, pleading with me to help them, to heal them. There's nothing I can do to stop it and I don't know how I'm going to be able to go on like this much longer."

Her head slipped to rest on his arm, and he gently lifted it up and around her shoulders, pulling her body closer to his. "I don't want to say I can relate, but –"

"You probably had it worse than I did, living in that house and coming back to school. I only had a few days of it – you had a year."

"As shitty as it sounds, you got used to it after a while. Or you learned to drown it out. I had convinced myself that it was a figment of my imagination for most of the time, especially at the Manor." Draco shuddered and Hermione buried her face in his cloak. She vaguely noticed that he had called it 'the Manor' and not 'home.' "_He_ was never around that much, but between my aunt and the rest of the lot, it was just as bad. I convinced my mother to lock me in my room whenever I was there." His voice sounded hollow, detached. She wondered if he even realized he was talking about it.

Hermione felt tears escape her eyes, wetting the wool of Draco's cloak. "Please," she whimpered, "talk about something else."

"Like what?" His hand came up to move her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Your favorite shop. Or a potions recipe. Or Quidditch."

"You hate Quidditch."

"I hate other things more."

"Mmm." Another swig of firewhiskey. She shook her head against him when he offered her the bottle again. "Potions, you say?"

"Yeah," she answered quietly. She stretched her legs out in front of her, laying her hands on her lap. She picked at a cuticle.

"You remember that day with the Felix Felicis in sixth year?"

She nodded, smiling fondly. "I remember the look on your face when Harry won."

"I remember the look on _yours_," he countered, and she could feel him grinning. "You're hair could've filled the whole of Gringotts that day. And you had this look of utter bewilderment when Slughorn announced Potter as the winner."

"And you looked like you had swallowed something foul," she teased. "Although, there wasn't much difference between that day and any other. It's a wonder your face didn't get stuck like that." She felt him chuckle lightly.

Another silence, much lighter than the previous one. Another drink.

"Draco?" she asked quietly, her voice shaking as if she wasn't sure about speaking at all.

"Yeah?"

"What's going on here?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Do we have to put a label on it?"

"Have you met me? I'm Hermione Granger, the girl who labels and categorizes everything – if it can't be defined, it doesn't exist."

Another drink, deeper this time, as if he could lose himself in the bottle instead of facing reality. "And if we don't define it?"

She shrugged with one shoulder, and she was suddenly aware that his hand had been resting lightly on the outside of her cloak, his thumb tracing patterns over the fabric. "We will eventually. We'll have to. When people start asking."

"They haven't yet. It's like they're afraid of us."

"We're still in school, Draco. There's a whole world waiting for us out there. They're not going to avoid us when we're cooped up in the reference room at the Ministry, or eating together in the cafeteria."

"How do you know we'll both work at the Ministry?"

"I know you have aspirations of joining MLE."

"They won't offer me a position, Granger. I'm me. There's no way the Ministry is going to employ someone with my background."

Hermione raised her head from his chest, looking him straight in the eye and poking him hard in the shoulder with her index finger. "Don't you dare, Draco Malfoy. If you give up now then they've won. They've defeated you. If you believe there's nothing worth fighting for, then the war killed you more completely than any spell ever could."

He peered at her curiously, his gaze drifting over her face. She gulped when his hand lifted to her cheek, the chill of his cold fingers making her blush. "For someone who has lost all hope of a normal life, you've still got some heat left." His eyes dropped to her lips, and hers to his. He pulled her swiftly to him, the softness of his thin lips molding to hers. He smelled like firewhiskey and something else, something rich and woody. They broke apart a second later, breathing heavy. She noticed his eyes were glazed, and she figured hers probably matched.

"I'm so tired, Draco."

"I know."

"Part of me just wants to stay hidden in this tower until the world is right and whole and good again."

"You'll be up here for a long time."

She rested her forehead against his, leaning into his fingers that stroked her cheek.

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><p><em>Author's Note:<em> Thoughts? Feelings? Thanks for all the kind words so far, it's defintely keeping me motivated! I'm writing these chapters based on one word prompts, so feel free to give me words to base future chapters on. (This first chapter was _fall_, and this one was _midnight_.) I look forward to hearing what you think!


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